[Call to Iman]

[andhiswife]

[This is ridiculous. A dream, even a true one, doesn't really warrant this. It wasn't even about Iman, and she's probably sleeping peacefully even as Greta pulls up her number.

Probably.

But it's not a 'definitely,' and Greta's too unnerved and heartsick to help herself. She dials, and waits with mounting anxiety for her friend to pick up. When she does, Greta blurts out her name before she can even get a word in.]

Iman?

Comments

[etherthief]

[Maybe not peacefully, but definitely sleeping. Still, she's quick to answer once she sees who it is. Her voice is a little dry and groggy but she's alert nonetheless.]

Greta? Are you okay?

[andhiswife]

[There, see? She's fine. Relief and embarrassment wash through her in equal measure, and Greta leans back against the headboard with an audible sigh. Now there's just the matter of explaining herself.]

Yes, I...

[Well, that just sounds stupid. Obviously she wouldn't be calling like this if everything was perfectly all right. Iman's no fool. Rubbing her forehead, she casts about for something helpful and informative and concise, and only manages an unsteady descent into borderline incoherence.]

Not--not exactly. Um. I just had a dream, and I think it was a real one, and-- [she sounds so foolish] --and I think I might have, have lost someone-- [she sounds so foolish, as if she's just mislaid the poor boy] --someone else I met early on, and I, um...

[... and she, what, had to wake Iman to make sure she hadn't vanished, too? As if the Rift hasn't already had its way with her, made its point. She falls silent, at a loss. Then, feebly:] Sorry.

[etherthief]

[Oh, shit. Iman sits up, which is considerably difficult when her only available arm is still holding the phone, and it's probably not devoid of sleepy grunting sounds.]

What happened? Did the Rift take someone back? [She's not sure that would cause Greta this much apparent anguish, but she'll need more details before she offers legitimate comfort.]

[andhiswife]

He said he-- [it's a momentary struggle to get the words out; she doesn't want to say it, doesn't want it to be true because it's too awful] --died, he said he felt himself dying because it had happened to him before, but...

[She has to stop this. She has to calm down, she can't just break down into complete hysterics over the phone, not when Iman is miles away and this problem is so far beyond anyone's ability to solve. The fact that it's not just Jay's loss upsetting her only serves to make her feel worse. As if the lad doesn't deserve to be mourned for his own sake, as if that isn't enough to be getting on with. Greta's face crumples, but she hauls herself back from that particular precipice, makes herself continue.]

But he was there, he was in my dream, like he's--like part of him is still stuck.

[And she doesn't know what to do. And there's probably nothing to be done at all, and this call has served no real purpose but to add to Iman's already considerable burden, and she should just stop.]

[etherthief]

[Okay, sitting up is not cutting it. She struggles out of bed, rubbing her face to wake up, though the clear distress in Greta's voice is doing a pretty good job of that.]

Greta, it's okay. [Is it?] It's okay. If he's stuck then we might be able to get him back. If he could tell you what happened that's a good sign. I... I know someone else this happened to recently, and he's working on coming back. Don't worry.

[Yeah don't worry it's totally fucking fine.]

Do you want me to come over?

[andhiswife]

[Greta curls in on herself, covering her face with her free hand as Iman does her level best to comfort her from a distance. It's not especially successful. How on earth are they going to get him back? It's not as if their attempts to meddle with the Rift have gone well in the past. Even the fact that this isn't some kind of one-off isn't much comfort, because that just means the Rift has a habit of murdering people and then trapping what's left of them in dreams. Who might be next?

The offer to come over rouses her. She pulls in a breath, and it's too sharp, too percussive, too close to a sob. Yes, she wants to say, and doesn't. Please. As if it's not bad enough that she's hauled Iman out of bed in the first place. As if Iman hasn't already spent more than enough time holding her hand, as if her secondhand distress over the Rift's behavior is so important when she knows it's nothing, nothing compared to what must be felt by the ones it has actually struck down. She can't ask Iman to come all the way up here for another round of shallow comfort that won't do a thing about the problem at hand, she can't be that selfish.

She's always been selfish.

She can't.]

N-no, I... I'll be fine.

[She scrapes a few stray hairs out of her face and lets out a slow breath. Catches her tears on the heel of her hand. Pulls herself together, or at least tries.]

I'm sorry I woke you.

feelings are GROSS

[etherthief]

[She sighs. She's lied way too often and too easily about how 'fine' she is, and she knows everyone can tell, and she can tell here too.]

It's okay not to be fine. I just... [ugh how do feelings] I want to be there for you. I want to. Do you understand?

[How could she, really?]

I'll always be here if you need me.

[andhiswife]

... Yes. I understand.

[She knows about wanting things - things that were difficult to come by, things that she assumed would be forever out of her reach (until, suddenly, they weren't). Wanting something she's fairly certain she doesn't deserve is a less familiar sort of ache, but wanting to help despite how little there really is to offer... that, she remembers with perfect clarity.

It's probably unfair to presume she's doing Iman any favors by insisting she keep her distance.

It's probably too easy to justify inviting her over as some gracious act of acceptance.

She hesitates for a moment, grappling for something, some token, something she can give, even though she knows it's not needed. Especially because she knows it's not needed.]

I could make breakfast...?

[etherthief]

Breakfast sounds nice. [And probably for the best. It's not like she's been eating well here. Probably best not to mention that.] I'll head right over.

[andhiswife]

All right.

[And she will pull herself together, make herself presentable, and focus more on the warmth of Iman's promise than the numerous examples one could point to as proof that it can't be kept.]

I'll see you soon.